The Eight Pages
by PieSpie
Summary: He doesn't exist... It's a myth... Only a game... Your imagination... That's what they all said. That's what they still say now. After this though, they'll never say it again.
1. Chapter 1: Into the Woods

**He doesn't exist... It's a myth... Only a game... Your imagination...**

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><p>That's what they all said. That's what they still say now. After this though, they'll never say it again.<p>

I turn around, to look at my two friends. They gesture forward, telling me to go on, signaling that nothing bad is going to happen. I sigh, put on a false look of desperation, turn around, and walk towards the fence. As my fingers wrap around the chain-link, I hear an unnatural-sounding gust of wind, and I turn around for one final look at my friends, but they've disappeared, soundlessly, without a trace.

If only I had known.

I turn once more, and begin climbing. At the top of the fence, my gaze sweeps the horizon. _Big place._ I think to myself. I turn back to where my friends were, hoping that I'd see them crouched behind some bush or something, but there's nothing. The area is quiet, save for the wind sighing through the trees, the soft whisper of the leaves. I push off and, for the split second that it had lasted, revel in the sensation of falling. I'm jolted out of my imagination though, as my feet hit the ground, and I fumble for my flashlight, the area suddenly seeming much darker than it did just seconds before.

My hand reaches for the satchel at my waist, and squeezes the pouch gently. I feel the little cylinders inside, counting. Six. I didn't think I'd need that many batteries, when I left for the forest, but now, it seems, I haven't brought enough.

The sky is clear, and the night warm, but for some reason, my knees begin to ache, the way they used to on cold winter nights, or on evenings before thunderstorms. The pain makes it difficult to walk fast, but I have no curfew, not since my parents were killed. My heart begins pounding, hard. I suppose it's only instincts, though. Long buried intentions of survival, to be weary of the night, of the darkness, the trees, rise once more, every one of my senses on high alert. I hear a rumbling, like thunder, or the footstep of some gargantuan beast. A second of silence, then it comes again.

I shake my head in dismay, knowing what that noise could have come from. My schizophrenia must be acting up. It hasn't bothered me for two years, though! How could it be doing this to me now? _It's not real._ I tell myself. _It's just your imagination. _My wayward train of thought wanders back to the things my friends were telling earlier this week, about the Slenderman, and how I kept assuring myself of the same things.

Now, though, it seems their stories are becoming all too real, like I can almost feel the Slenderman staring at me. The hair on the back of my neck prickles, and a cold sweat break across my forehead, where locks of golden blonde hair fall in thick curtains. I toss my head, sending the curls flying, and see something out of the corner of my eye, something almost human-like in appearance. I turn my head to put the figure in direct line of sight, but a curl passes over my eyes, and it's gone.

_Just your imagination._

I start to feel a little sick, and begin to get a headache, but the sensations pass. I look straight ahead, at the three-way split in the dirt pathway, and decide to head left.

I hear a soft hissing behind me, and ignore it, remembering rule number 1 of Slenderman:

_Never look behind you._


	2. Chapter 2: The First Page

**A/N For the story's sake, the landmarks are being visited in no particular order, for those of you who know what the Slender: The Eight Pages map actually looks like. Flames are for keeping me warm in the Slender Woods. :)**

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><p>The more I walk, the more my knees hurt, so I keep my progress as slow as possible. In the distance, I see a very large tree with what looks to be a piece of notebook paper stuck to it. My progress still isn't very fast, but my curiosity makes it easier to ignore the pain in my joints as I approach the mysterious tree.<p>

When I get close enough, I shine my light onto the paper to see what it says, only to realize that it says nothing at all, but is just a drawing. I'm now no more than a meter away from it, so I decide to study the strange drawing. It looks to be a rushed sketch of a few trees and a man. Nothing I should really be concerned about. When I pick up the notebook paper, I hear a sudden, inexplicable and ugly sound, almost like a young child slamming his or her hands down onto the keys of a piano. I jump, startled, and nearly drop the note. I catch it in midair, fold it up, and stuff it messily into my satchel. My neck prickles again, and the feeling that I'm being watched intensifies slightly, but still I dismiss it, not wanting to let my schizophrenia get the best of me.

Once again, I see that strange figure out of the corner of my eye. Once again, I turn my head to get a better look at it. Once again, my headache returns, and the nausea hits me so hard that I collapse to me knees. With my head lowered, and the figure completely out of my range of vision, my head suddenly clears up, and the nausea disappears.

_Strange,_ I think. _It's almost as if this _thing_ is causing these symptoms._ All of a sudden, I know that this _couldn't_ be schizophrenia. As far as I understand, schizophrenia doesn't cause people to violently get sick at random or sudden intervals, but I do know that it causes people to see and hear things that aren't real. _That feeling, though._ I consider. _Like something's watching me. That can't be schizophrenia. There's no way._

I stand up and straighten back out, looking around cautiously, just in case that creature is still there. In the back of my mind, something puts two and two together and I gasp as realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

_This thing is the Slenderman!_

I shake my head in denial. No. There's no way the Slenderman can be real! There's just no way! I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Something nips at my subconscious, telling me not to stay in one place for too long. Perhaps there are more notes scattered throughout the forest that could tell me a little more about the Slenderman. I've never exactly played any of the actual games, but I know that the main objective is to find and collect all eight pages that are scattered at set locations throughout the woods. So, steeling myself for a very, _very _long night ahead of me, I start off into a random direction, not knowing but dreading what could be in store for me at the next location.

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><p><strong>Reviews help a lot, guys, so be sure to comment your opinion. Please feel free to point out any mistakes I may have made. I'm struggling a bit with keeping the present-tense time frame going. Thanks for reading, and be sure to follow the story if you want to see what happens in the next chapter!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3: Follows

I've only walked a few steps, and already I begin to feel fatigued. I slow down until I'm going at a speed where a snail could easily bypass me, and decide to cut by some nearby trees.

Big mistake.

I begin to feel paranoid and insecure as soon as I step off the path. I push the feelings aside and continue onward, my eyes darting every which way. I continuously think that every tree, every shifting shadow is the Slenderman, ready to pounce on me the moment I let my guard down. The very thought of that creature existing, the fact that _it's after me_ is enough to send chills down my spine. I shudder involuntarily, trying to keep the thoughts of him - _It -_ away.

I walk for a solid five minutes before I finally see a break in the trees. The thundering from before has been going on nonstop, like a heartbeat or the sound of a gigantic bass drum. As I approach the clearing, I see large, cylindrical shadows, all in uniform rows. I squint in the darkness to get a better look at them, and soon come to see that they're propane tankers.

I shine my flashlight along the ominous shapes, and the beam catches on something behind the tankers. I steady my torch, and squint at the shape, elation flooding through me. _It's a building!_ I begin running towards the brick structure, weaving through the maze of tankers.

As I approach the face of the building, my light suddenly flickers, and is gone.

"No, no, no!" I bat the light with the heel of my hand, hoping to jolt the batteries into a better position to power the small device, but it's no use. They're dead. I open the light and let the cylinders fall into my hand, then stuff them into an empty compartment of my satchel. As I take out two fresh batteries, the moon appears from behind some wayward clouds, and I see a bright sheet of paper stuck to one of the tankers. Quickly, I stuff the new batteries into the flashlight, screw it back together, and turn it on, aiming the beam at the paper.

Again, it's a picture of the Slenderman. He has no facial features, and is wearing a black suit. A lone tree stands next to the figure, and down the right margin of the page are seven letters:

**_F-O-L-L-O-W-S_**

_Oh. That's good to know. _ I think to myself sarcastically. Once more, I feel that unearthly presence behind me, and I quickly take the page down and fold it messily, then haphazardly stuff it into my satchel. The building is only twenty feet away. I decide to sprint as best as I can the short distance to the entrance, and once I'm inside, I immediately regret it.

Directly ahead, perhaps ten feet down the hall, is an intersection with only two options: Left or right.

_Corners. It _had_ to be corners._

_This is _not_ going to be fun._


End file.
